The Reunion
by Nidavellir
Summary: An eerie replication of the Auburn tragedy had taken place. In another episode of such mysterous calamity, America calls upon the First Encounter Assault Recon team. Little will they know the dark fate that awaits them...
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: F.E.A.R. is created by Monolith Productions, published by Vivendi Universal Games, all rights reserved.

English is not my native tongue, so I would love to hear any corrections/comments, ENJOY.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

2 months after the Auburn incident...

Twilight approaches, and in this time of the season, this manner of weather, darkness falls swiftly on Facility 113, a Supermax prison built to contain the most harmful individuals in the country. In here, there are no exclusive solitary confinements, for every standard cell was designed to hold their captive in complete isolation: soundproof and lightproof, away from human interactions, and even nature itself. Amongst one of the many identical, indescribable hellish cell, on its bare concrete floor, and under the watch of its camera, kneeled a silent man.

Of all the local residents of Facility 113, he was the oldest. Not in terms of age, but he was the one who remained here longer than all others. A middle-aged man, while bald like all his neighbors, his time in this confinement had also rendered his face featureless, stony and mask-like. His skin was as pale as the sickening moonlight, but beneath them wrapped strains of gritty, unfitting muscles, results of having all the time in the world to spend on anything. But he no longer prayed to have the chance of using them on the guards. He no longer prayed for a chance to escape. He no longer prayed for the hastening of his execution. He had stopped praying for his own end.

In the control room that resembled one for space programs, before the rows of countless monitors, the uniformed guards were in the shock of their lives. Beyond all feasible theories, the host of monitors begun to fall into disarray, loosing their sights of the prisoners and areas of the compound, until all that were displayed was a sea of flashes. One of the guards was already shouting frantically into the phone. From the interior lightings of the hallways and the warden's room, to the exterior lampposts and the watchtowers, none were omitted to a series of eerie interference. Outside the 13-foot high razor wire fences, the once vicious attack dogs whimpered by the feet of their puzzled handlers. The entire fortification became consumed by a wave of unseen dread.

Back inside the same little cell, it's encased room light glimmering, the silent man looked up. Before his lifeless eyes, beyond the heavy and dull steel door, he thought he heard a chilling, almost inaudible voice, in a tone he had dearly missed:

"Free. You are free,"

The indestructible door opened. The man widened his pupils to meet his liberator, but instead he was embraced by a strangling sense of disturbance, a gruesome dominance over both his mind and flesh. The small, almost inaudible voice continued to haunt him:

"Lead them, I will show you,"

In a surreal rage, his scream echoed across every corner of the facility. Breaching every hard-boiled structure, his cry reached his fellow isolated inmates. In response, their motions froze in mid-air, their heads tipped upwards, and their eyes turned demoniac. The guards did not detect this outburst of phenomenon. They ran hysterically all over the building, barking helplessly into their earpieces. A herd of guards made their ways toward the armory, seeking the heavy equipment for the worst. But none of them managed to get their hands on them, for the reinforced hydraulic doors suddenly slammed shut, and in a hideous accuracy crushed the head of pack. The remaining guards, petrified in horror, never saw what soon sweeps upon them, which altered them into a pile of steaming skeletons, drenched in their liquefied flesh. The interior of the control room was now vandalized, with clusters of human blood flung in all directions. In one particular row of monitors, their screens displayed the columns of cells in all sections of the prison. In a simultaneous, synchronized act, the cell doors unbolted.

Twilight had encumbered Facility 113. No guards can be seen patrolling its premises, and the illuminations of the watchtowers were no longer in motion. Deep inside the Supermax prison, on a blood-soaked carpet floor, a group of statue-like prisoners encircled a ruined body. Beside it, kneeled a busy man dressed in an unfitting set of office clothes, splattered with gore. As he finishes his task, he stood up, and bore a face that did not belong to him.


	2. Deja Vu

Interval 1: Dejavu  
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the pitching darkness, a woman startled from her sleep answered her phone:

"Hello?"

Her reply came from an elderly man with much anxiety to his tone:

"Sorry to disrupt your rest, Aristide. But something has happened, something beyond our calculation...there's been another incident, not unlike the one in Auburn,"

"Not unlike the Auburn incident? How is that possible?"

"As unexpected as it seems, it could only be in one place..."

"Impossible!" the woman was obviously shaken:

"I thought you had that project terminated?"

"Frozen in oblivion," the man said calmly:

"And you know as well as I do, that I had no authority over the welfare of that project,"

"Save that for later," she retorted somewhat:

"I want to know CAN it be contained?"

"If it is the same catalyst from Auburn, then my answer is definite. There is only solution, and there can only be one outcome. I will see to it that this will be an unscheduled exercise to our program. Either way..."

He took a small breath in confidence:

"We should have nothing to fear..."


	3. Briefing

He found himself standing in the very same spot as his first day at work. Facing a wall of sophisticated monitors, with Betters to his right and Jin to his left. The only thing missing was the ill mouth of Jankowski.

"His name is Eugene Patton," said commissioner Betters.

The coordinator noted to the various mug shots, prison footages and the team emblem shown on the monitors. The displays focused on one man. He bore a monotonous, pale face of no distinguishable features, and his eyes resembled two yearning whirlpools of no foundation.

"He was the one that made contact from inside the facility, claiming he is the current 'director' of Facility 113,"

"This is the part I don't understand," said Jin:

"Supermax prisons are designed so prisoners have no contacts with each other or the outside. There's no way they could've coordinated a revolt, and allow this guy to take leadership,"

"This is one of the mysteries, but I believe I can answer that soon enough...and the same reason why we're brought in," Betters gave his Pointman a firm glance:

"After the exterior guards lost contact with the control room, they are the ones that made it back inside, reconnected the prison uplink with the outside, and reported their situation before their signals were cut off,"

"Initial accounts?" asked the Korean medic.

"They sounded deeply disturbed. Other than learning there's not a cell that went unlocked, they also reported formations of liquefied flesh throughout the complex. Less than an hour later, SWAT teams from local law enforcement stormed the facility. Live security footage showed them being literally torn apart by unseen sources – not unlike the commandos initially sent to the Auburn incident,"

"Alma?" Jin gasped in alarm.

"Nothing could be confirmed at this point, but I guess this is the only reason we would be called out here today. Remember, although the US government officially disclaims the paranormal, they believe in probability: seeing as how we're the only ones to survive the previous calamity on site, chances are we might be the only ones who can live through it again,"

"I've been praying since the day, that this will never happen,"

"Save that for later. Your primary objective would be to neutralize all hostiles in Facility 113, and be on the lookout for Patton,"

"Secondary?"

"Secure the hostages,"

'Hostages? Is that a new update of the situation?" the medic became more concerned.

"Just received it prior to this briefing. Patton has managed to send out a short footage that has been holding back a full-scale army assault,"

One of the projectors changed its content: showing what appears to be inside the prison cafeteria, with a dozen uniformed guards beaten and cowering on the ground.

"Poor fellows..."

"Almost a complete replication of the Auburn incident," commented the commissioner, and turned towards his Pointman:

"What about you, buddy. Ready to face your fear the second time?"


	4. Flashbacks

"What are you, chicken shit or something?"

He remembered the last insult Jankowski made to his face, while towering over the mutilated corpse of his brother's victim. Despite the harsh tone, back then he could already sense a hint of uneasiness coming out of his partner's mouth. He was never made welcomed to the team.

He also remembered one of the many haunting manifestations of his former comrade. Deep within the wastewater treatment plant, the shattering specter of the FEAR veteran once stood in a gloomy doorway, and informed the Pointman another of his enigmatic messages from the Other Side:

"She's afraid of you..."

But perhaps of all the disturbing voices he could recall from his last mission, was the last he heard from the little girl, as he sprinted towards the last elevator ride of the night:

"I know who you are..."


End file.
